


not everything is as it seems

by civillove



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: suitupbuttercup requested: would you consider writing a piece in which our favorite dumbass gets hurt on a case? And Dani is justifiably freaked out and worried? Thank you. I love you. You're my favorite.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 148





	not everything is as it seems

**Author's Note:**

> this probably has a lot more plot than you wanted but i don't make the rules, i just fill requests ;)

The metal door bangs against the wall as Dani manipulates it open with her foot, her hands carrying hot drinks as she makes her way downstairs to the Edrisa’s workspace. She’s not exactly running late yet but she knows it was probably a poor decision to stop at the hole in the wall tea place on her way in. It’s just…she’s gonna need the extra warmth and caffeine, her heat is on the fritz at her apartment complex and her limbs have felt frozen ever since she crawled out of bed.

This Earl Grey is going to keep her feeling like a human being and really, that’s better for _everyone_ she works with in the long run.

She lets out a long sigh as she finally makes it into the inner corridors of the morgue, Edrisa pulling the sheet off of the victim that was found late last night in a Brooklyn hotel room. She hasn’t even begun her strange, jittery yet on-topic, conversations with Bright—so Dani’s made it just in time.

“Sorry,” She says as she makes her way into the space, Malcolm leaning up from over the body to glance in her direction. JT and Gil are on the other side of the table, her boss looking at the time on his watch but not saying anything.

Dani’s eyes wash over the body, and she sort of wishes she hadn’t, but it’s…purposefully horrifying. Their killer _wants_ them to stare. She clears her throat and moves to stand next to Bright, passing him one of the teas in her hand.

He smiles gently, their fingers brushing as he takes it. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a slow breath of Earl Grey, the scent washing over him and removing some of the tension from his shoulders. Dani chews on her lower lip, taking a sip of her own; she knows exactly what that feels like.

“What, none of the rest of us?” JT presses but he’s mostly teasing her.

“You like tea?” Malcolm asks, not believing for a second that he actually drinks it. And he’s right, JT doesn’t touch the stuff. He puts his cup down on a table behind him and grabs a pair of rubber gloves.

JT crosses his arms over his chest, “I like it when it’s free.” He mumbles and Dani snorts out a sound before drawing her jacket a little closer around her body.

“Alright,” Gil interrupts before they can start arguing like siblings, “What do you got, Edrisa?” And good, Dani wants this to move along—she’s tired of being in places that are cold. While collecting evidence in the conference room is usually her least favorite part of the job, at least the heat will be on.

Edrisa is staring at their matching paper cups before she’s forced to snap out of her daze to talk about the body. She clears her throat and pushes her glasses up her nose, watching Bright start to prod at the chest of the victim.

“Cause of death was technically blood loss.”

Dani scrunches her nose, following Bright’s hands as they flutter over marred flesh. Really? “The body is burned to crisp.” She says, mostly as an afterthought against the rim of her cup.

“Yes, well not everything is as it seems.” Edrisa states, almost a little harsh. She clears her throat afterwards as Dani purses her lips. _Okay._ Bright pauses a little at her tone, those blue eyes finding Edrisa’s—and just like that, she can see the moment where the coroner’s shoulders relax, just slightly.

“I think what Dani means is that the COD is surprising,” He says after a moment and turns his head to look at her, “The fire was used to cover up evidence. If you feel with your fingers, there are jagged cuts along the chest, torso and,” He pauses, shifting down a little, his shoulder brushing her body as he leans in again, “Even the inner thighs. Grab some gloves, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Dani takes a step back and scrunches her nose, which she thinks is Bright’s intention because he’s smiling with that teasing tilt to his lips. “Not a chance.”

Malcolm stands up straight, his eyes drinking in the body in front of him, building a profile like he’s reading words off of bone and burnt flesh. “Edrisa is right; our killer made several deep cuts so that our victim bled out, slowly. The fire was just a diversion, overkill.”

“That make it more difficult to get dental records to confirm our vic?” Gil asks, leaning a little closer to the table as Edrisa slips her fingers in the corpse’s mouth.

“Still working on it.” She scrunches her nose and walks to where Bright’s standing, “The only thing we do have is what kind of knife the killer was using.” Without asking, she takes Malcolm’s gloved hand and puts it on a specific part of the body near the neck, forcing his fingers to glide over a jagged piece of skin.

Dani raises her eyebrows, her lips resting against the rim of her cup, an amused smile threatening to overtake her mouth. JT rolls his eyes and Gil waits the longest he can before interrupting Edrisa’s latest fixation with Bright.

“You feel that?”

Bright clears his throat but lets her lead despite the uncomfortable tension working down his spine at being touched, “It’s a—” Then something clicks on his face, blue eyes widening as he puts puzzle pieces together as if they’re floating in the air, ready for him to grab. “Oh, Edrisa, brilliant.”

She grins, her cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement before Gil clears his throat, “You two wanna unpack that for us?”

Bright dips his chin, moving to take a step back before he realizes he’s stuck underneath Edrisa’s hand. He gently leans closer, “Can I have my hand back?”

“Oh!” Edrisa takes a step back, clapping her palms together, “Of course, yes you uh. You need that.”

Malcolm smiles politely before taking his gloves off, tossing them into the nearest trashcan and grabbing his cup of tea to take a sip, “Our killer used an athame,” He gestures towards the neck, “You can tell from how the incision feels closest to the neck, a curved blade that might look like a snake.”

Dani hums, rocking back on her heels a moment, “Aren’t those usually used in…ritualistic killings?”

Bright nods and suddenly looks too excited for his own good, “We’re looking for someone who’s interested in the occult—”

“I don’t do witches,” JT interrupts, shaking his head.

A short laugh leaves her lips, can’t help it. “You afraid of Sabrina, JT?”

Malcolm hides a smile against the rim of his cup, JT throwing her a glare but not any words to go with it, “We’re most likely dealing with someone who just _thinks_ she’s a witch, so you should be safe.”

“Probably.” Dani adds to the teasing, her and Bright tapping their cups together in a ‘cheers’ motion.

Gil interrupts that immediately, “Alright, enough you two. Bright, how do you know our killer is female?”

“Because ritualism geared towards a male that has no ties to specific cult behavior are usually females. The cuts are placed at intimate places before the overkill to hide evidence,” Bright chews on his lower lip, crossing his arms over his chest, “She expected to get something out of this—we can probably look at the crime scene photos and find more evidence of some sort of ‘spell’ taking place before the scene was burned.”

He sighs, “Alright, that’s what I want you two to do,” He motions to her and Bright, “JT and I will go back to the hotel complex, see if we can get any more information about who was renting the room out to match the dental work.”

_Finally,_ she attempts to let her shoulders unwind as they make their way out of the morgue and walks up the steps with Bright to the conference room.

\--

Dani spreads what they have out in front of them, which is eighty photographs with yellow numbered tags that all look the same on the surface. The hotel room was burnt pretty well beyond recognition before firemen put it out, part of her is surprised it was safe enough for a team to take the scene apart and take pictures of everything.

She lets out a slow breath and unzips her jacket, “So…how do we want to do this?”

Malcolm is sitting on the table with his feet on a chair, turned a little at the waist as his eyes drift over the spread that they have to tackle, “Start grouping as best we can, I guess.”

She can feel his eyes on her as she sheds her leather jacket along the back of a chair, leaning the palms of her hands against the table. Dani tries her best to ignore him at first, because she knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s hard to stop him when he starts digging, especially since they’ve been attempting to become better friends by removing the boundaries between them. Still, it’s weird to feel him flip through her emotions, micro-expressions and movements like fingers gliding through a card index catalogue.

“Your heat still not working in your apartment?”

Dani turns her head to look at him, meeting his blue eyes, clear as a cool spring, “What gave that away?” He opens his mouth to detail the _exact_ response to her question before she raises her hand, “That was rhetorical.”

“Ah.” Bright muses, a soft smile playing with the corners of his mouth as his cheeks tint the softest of pinks. He looks down at the photographs in front of him, picking one up.

She pulls a chair out and sits near his knees. “Heat is still off but they should be fixing it today, hopefully. I dunno how much longer I can justify a later start time because I’m stuck under six blankets.”

His smile is warm as he plays with the corner of the photograph between his fingers, “Maybe Gil will start letting you wear a onesie to work.”

She snorts as the thought crosses her mind before vehemently shaking her head, “I don’t care how cold I get, I’m not wearing one of those.”

Malcolm hums in agreement but she can tell he doesn’t quite believe her, putting the photo down to pick up another one. His gaze is trained on the yellow numbered tabs even as he says, “Well it’s supposed to get into the teens the next few nights. If you need a place to wait it out, you can always stay with me.”

He says it so nonchalantly that she nearly does a double take. Her eyes bore into his even though he won’t look at her, tracing his finger over one part of the photograph like he might have found something important to the case. Dani’s not sure if he’s purposely not meeting her gaze or whether absorbed by evidence, either way, butterflies swell eagerly in her chest at the invitation.

She allows herself to picture it for a moment, his spacious loft filled with the both of them. Not like the night she brought him home when he accidently got high, no, there’d be no barrier like that between them this time. He’d probably cook her breakfast, force her to take his bed despite needing the restraints. She’d see a completely different version of Bright as he wears comfortable pants and warm sweaters, not everything is as he appears to be.

Dani’s not sure if that’s a good idea at _all._

“Maybe,” She says after a moment, clearing her throat. “It’ll probably be fixed today.”

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the offer but the moment their walls completely come down, it’s _that_ much harder to try and establish them back into place.

Dani straightens her back, reaching for a few crime scene photos to look at herself. “What kind of things should we be digging for?” She scrunches her nose and turns one of the photos to try and get a better look—she’s really not sure how much they’re going to be able to pull from this.

“Well they definitely didn’t recover the murder weapon, killer took that with them, so anything that looks like herbs, ceremonial bowls, crystals, animal bones—”

She pulls a face, her eyebrows scrunching together, “I’m gonna stop you right there.”

Malcolm lets the photo sit on his lap, a sympathetic smile touching his cheeks. He reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, letting his touch linger longer than necessary…and she lets him. “I know. Basically, anything that looks like it might be part of a ritual, set it aside. We can start grouping once we have a smaller pile.”

Dani picks up another photograph and tries not to feel overwhelmed by _everything_ looking like a pile of ash, “Do you really think we’ll find anything?”

He leans closer to her and shows her the corner of the photograph in his fingers. When she focuses, she can see the outline of what appears to be a brass bowl, the rim a scarlet red. “Not to brag but I’m really good at ‘Where’s Waldo?’.”

She rolls her eyes, taking the photograph from him to begin a smaller pile. “Of course you are.”

\--

A few hours, one lunch break and three tea trips later, they have a significantly smaller pile to work with. It’s mostly everything that Bright already said they should be on the look for: charred animal bones, crumbling crystals, half-burned sage that somehow missed the bulk of the fire because it was closest to the door, and an array of brass and copper bowls.

She lets out a slow breath, putting one of the photographs on the white-board and taking a closer look. She’s starting to get a headache that’s pinching along her temples from trying to see past what’s right in front of her.

Dani wants to call another break but she’s pretty sure Malcolm wouldn’t take one even if she asked him to. She turns to look at him, hunched over a photograph on the table, dragging his finger along the bottom edge like that’ll help clear some of the soot from his eyesight.

“Anything?”

He purses his lips together, not quite there as he says to her, “Maybe.” He sighs, straightening his back and cracking the knobs of his spine. She can tell the exact moment that he stops analyzing the crime scene to turn his skills of deduction onto her instead, “You’re not as unnerved as JT is by this whole witchcraft thing.”

She smiles a little, “Nah, I mean other than the murder, I find this stuff kind of fascinating. Not like…the cartoon witches who fly on brooms and have cauldrons or anything,” The corners of Bright’s mouth turn up as he watches her talk, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest, “But I like the idea of being connected to the Earth, respecting nature.”

He nods, his hand moving to rub a sore muscle on the back of his neck. “A balance.”

“Yeah, I guess. Plus,” She has no idea why she’s telling him this, “My favorite holiday is Halloween.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Really? Like…jack-o-lanterns, black cats, the whole thing?”

Dani turns at the warm amusement in his tone, and narrows her eyes because it _almost_ sounds like he’s teasing her, “That’s surprising to you? Thought you would have been able to figure that out.” She waves her hand and motions to his state of being, as in, his ability to profile.

Malcolm lets out a short laugh, standing from the table to approach the board. “I’m not a magic eight ball.”

“Maybe ‘try again’.” She prods and he catches her joke almost instantly, narrowing his eyes at her before bumping their shoulders.

He takes another look at the board, pausing as he steps down the line of photographs they have taped up. Bright takes one in-between his fingers, eyebrows drawing together as he notices something they missed before.

“You see that?” He shows it to her, brushing his thumb around the edge of one of the brass bowls they recognized singed to the carpet.

Dani steps closer, about to warn that she’ll hit him if he’s joking and says something about Waldo—but then she notices what he’s talking about. There’s a brand on the bowl, barely recognizable but there nonetheless with a little bit of concentration. “Is that…an eye?”

Bright nods, something registering on his face. Bubbled excitement colors his tone as he suddenly grabs her wrist, “It’s the evil eye!”

She opens and closes her mouth a moment, not following, “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?

“It’s…” He tugs her towards the table, grabbing both of their coats, “It’s a symbol sometimes used in witchcraft—can be a curse but depending on how it’s used, it can also offer protection.”

“And what you’re getting at is…?” Dani pulls on her jacket, zipping it up and attempting to stop his rambling if he’s really onto something.

Malcolm smiles, yanking open the conference door. “The evil eye, the brand on the side of the bowl…a local occult shop uses the same label. I know where our killer bought her supplies.”

\--

Dani lets Malcolm decide how he wants this to go, which is probably her first mistake, but at the very least she sends a text to JT and Gil to let them know they’re following a lead. She wants to ask how he knew about this place but he mumbles something about working an angle with the FBI at one point and knows it’s a touchy subject to try and prod.

She just hopes this place can give them the answers they need even though she feels like they’re looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Other than the fact that they know their killer is a woman, there’s not much to go on.

Her phone buzzes with a text and she checks it as Bright holds the door open for her. She’s hit with a wall of incense in the air that makes her nose crinkle, waving off a sneeze with her hand even though Bright hands her a tissue.

“Our victim is Roger Kelley, 32. Gil and JT just finished interviewing his wife—apparently he was having an affair.” She slides her thumb over her home screen, reading another message, “That he quit a month ago. They were just going to renew their vows on Sunday.”

The profiler hums as they step inside the shop; this information does not seem to be surprising to him. “I’m guessing our killer didn’t like that very much. That has to be the trigger,” He purses his lips, glancing at the row of candles that they walk by, pausing at the red. “She was trying to get him back with a spell.”

Dani sniffles, the incense starting to burn her sinuses. “That’s a little delusional, isn’t it?”

Bright shrugs, “It’s just like any other strong set of emotions. She didn’t want to lose him. I’m guessing the spell part went sour when it didn’t work.”

“And that’s why she killed him.”

The shop is square and small, scarlet maroon and gold the main colors on the wall like waves threatening to overtake her. There are things that she recognizes; crystals, the same brass bowls from the crime scene, candles, incense, mortar and pestles but then her gaze finds things that…she has no idea what they are. Jars filled with herbs she can’t pronounce, books in other languages and tools in a glass case as they approach the counter with the cash register.

The shop’s empty except for them, hopefully someone they can question in the back. Bright hits the small bell next to a stack of books on the glass case, sticking his hands in his pockets as he glances behind the counter. He motions to the set of ceremonial daggers on display and she nods her head.

She sees them too, an athame at the center.

Dani turns a moment, a hitching in her chest as she suddenly sneezes into her arm. Malcolm’s mouth is twitching in amusement as he hands her another tissue, “Are you allergic to incense?”

“No,” She grumbles, snatching the tissue from him to blow her nose.

“You can wait outside,” He offers, motioning towards the door before she straightens her back and gives him a look that holds her opinion very clearly. He smiles a little, dipping his head. “Alright”

“I’m not leaving you without backup,” She insists, even though she did ask Gil and JT to show up just in case. They mise well meet up to put together what they’ve learned.

“You afraid someone’s going to cast a spell on me?” He jokes and Dani smiles with too many teeth.

“One can only hope,” She says sweetly before a woman comes out from the back to approach them at the counter.

“Sorry, just heard the bell,” She smiles, curling her long black hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a lot of dark makeup and lace, lips a beautiful scarlet red, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m detective Dani Powell and this is Malcolm Bright. We’re with the NYPD, we just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind?”

The woman leans against the counter and nods softly, “Sure, I’m Stacy. Is something wrong with the shop?”

Bright shakes his head, “No, but we do have a question about the daggers behind you, specifically the one in the middle: the curved athame. A woman would have came in the past week to buy one, do you have any records you could show us?”

“Well this is a very popular seller,” She clears her throat, drumming her fingers on the counter. Malcolm observes her for a moment, his eyes shifting from her hands to her face, picking actions apart despite how little she’s telling them.

“This woman would have bought a few things in bulk,” Dani adds, trying to breathe more through her mouth because she’s feeling congested. “Brass bowls, candles, maybe even inquired about a specific spell?”

“A love spell.” Bright presses, “She might have even mentioned who she was trying to get to fall in love with her. Roger Kelley?”

Stacy clears her throat, shaking her head slowly. “No, I’m…I’ve never had a customer come in and mention him.”

Something shifts in the air; Dani can feel it even though she’s not sure what it is. Suddenly Bright is turning to her, a soft smile that isn’t genuine on his mouth, “Did you want to get some fresh air? I can finish up here.” She frowns, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion because _what?_ She opens her mouth to give him what she hopes isn’t too snappy of a reply when his hand comes down on her wrist.

He squeezes, pointedly, almost pushing her towards the door as he takes a step forward. “I think I have an allergy tablet in my bag, in the car.”

The realization nearly crashes down onto her shoulders too late. It feels like slow motion even though she knows it’s not; there’s an emotional eruption on Stacy’s face, reacting too violently to the name of the victim. Bright _knew_ , he knew and he tried to get Dani out of there before Stacy was set off. She’s trying to pull her gun out to aim but Stacy’s stepping out from behind the register and wielding an athame that she’s yanked out from underneath the counter.

“Bright!” She snaps, forcing him to turn around but it’s too late—the knife catches his side and he twists with the movement, going down.

Dani aims her gun at the woman who attempts to come towards her, eyes wild, filled with tears and pin-pricked black. “Stop, _freeze_ or I will shoot.” She warns, “Drop the knife.”

Malcolm groans on the floor, holding his side but at least he’s conscious. Maybe the cut didn’t go as deep and—okay stop, she _has_ to concentrate _._ She holds her stance, eyes trained on Stacy who is shaking, fingers holding the knife so hard her knuckles turn white.

“He thought he could just leave me. He was wrong.”

“Drop. The knife.” Dani repeats, “This is your last warning.”

The front door of the shop opens just as Stacy drops her knife, looking down at Bright with satisfaction over her face even as JT and Gil come onto the scene to handcuff her.

“What happened?” Gil asks, worry streaking his voice as he pulls out his phone to call an ambulance.

“Turns out athames are sharp,” Malcolm huffs out a sound as she drops to her knees and grabs a nearby cloth to press to his wound. She has to pull his coat aside a little, the wound oozing and she presses the fabric into him.

He groans, his hands covering hers and squeezing, head tilted back a little as pain filters through his nerve endings.

“Probably not best time to mention this but you’re pressing a sacrificial-alter tablecloth to my side and getting blood on it, so.”

“I’m going to hit you if you make another joke.” She warns and JT smirks as he steps over them to lead Stacy out.

“That’s how you know homeboy is just fine.” He says over his shoulder.

She doesn’t even entertain that with a smile, even when Malcolm offers her a sheepish pull of his lips and runs his thumb along her knuckles holding the cloth in place over his wound.

\--

Dani tries not to think about Bright’s blood on her hands as she stands outside of the open ambulance, the profiler seated on the edge as an EMT assesses his wound. The flashing blue and red lights from police cars cast attractive shadows on his face as he attempts to hold his shirt because he’s got it half off and half on while he’s examined.

It could have been worse and yet; she still doesn’t like to see the gash on Malcolm’s side that’s red and angry from being cleaned with antiseptic. She takes a step closer, his eyes trailing up from the pavement to rest on her, eyebrows drawing together just slightly because he can tell she’s upset with him.

Her voice betrays her anger almost instantly as she says, “What was that in there?”

He clears his throat, shifting so that the gauze can easily be wrapped around his upper torso. “What do you mean?”

Bright knows _exactly_ what she means, “You figuring out Stacy was our killer and trying to get me to leave.”

He licks his teeth, trying to gather words he wants to say because no matter what, she’s going to yell at him, “Well I didn’t know how else to say, ‘Go call for backup’.”

“JT and Gil were already on their way and I’m still your best bet when it comes to someone with a weapon. Out of the two of us, who carries a gun?”

He rolls his eyes, which just somehow makes her blood fizzle underneath her skin, “I’m good at hand to hand combat, you know, I don’t need a gun to—”

“Says the knife _wound_ on your side?” She interrupts, motioning with her hand.

Malcolm winces but she’s not sure whether it’s from her tone of voice or the paramedic patching him up, “It’s barely a scratch, I don’t even need stiches.”

“That’s not the point. I thought—” Her voice wavers suddenly with something she doesn’t like. She blames it on her allergies hurting her throat and making her eyes itchy and she bites down, hard, on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying anything else.

Suddenly Bright understands, his eyes swimming in blue empathy because _oh._

Because she’s an idiot and he’s too fucking careless, because there was a lot of blood despite the knife not going deep and she’s _concerned_ about someone who’s the most nonchalant person she’s ever met about keeping himself out of harm’s way.

“Dani,” He says gently, trying to reach for her hand despite the EMT trying to tape the gauze into place.

But it doesn’t matter because she backs up out of his grasp, turning and ending the conversation to do something more productive.

\--

Their relationship is tense for a few days, like someone tightening a string around someone’s wrist. They work together just fine, it doesn’t really get in the way of that because they don’t allow it to, but there’s a disruption to their flow. It’s in the way they talk to one another, in the way Dani doesn’t bring him tea and Malcolm doesn’t hover close enough so that their shoulders brush.

It’s not like she wants him to apologize, she’s not _angry_ at him…but she doesn’t know how to have the conversation where Bright understands that his actions effect the people who care about him.

It seems like it should be a no-brainer, she’s always concerned about anyone getting hurt on the team—just like they’d be worried about her.

She squashes down the small voice in the back of her head that tells her this thing with Bright is somehow different.

\--

The tension will fade, it’s only a matter of time…except Malcolm isn’t willing to wait because he corners her in the staff lounge while she makes herself a cup of coffee. He removes the door stopper and kicks it aside, letting it close gently to give them some privacy.

She raises an eyebrow, stirring sugar into her cup. “Are you locking us in here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you stop avoiding me.” He smiles a little, leaning back against the door and watching her stir a spoon in her cup.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Dani disagrees, pouring creamer into her mug next before putting it back into the fridge.

The muscle tenses in his jaw, his eyes falling onto the hand that’s holding her cup and he’s _reading_ her as if the words are sitting on her fingers like the rings she has on. “You only put sugar _and_ cream into your coffee when you’re upset.”

She opens her mouth, wanting to argue with him but he rocks back onto his heels, a challenging look in his eye that says _try to prove me wrong—_ and Dani knows she can’t. She puts the mug down, suddenly the sickly-sweet taste in the back of her mouth unpleasant.

Bright takes a few steps towards her, putting his hands into his pockets. “The last thing I want to do is worry you, but it’s kind of part of the profession we’re in.”

Dani nods, chewing on her lower lip as she drums her fingers on the counter. She knows this; how many times has she gotten herself hurt by ending up in unnecessary danger? Shit happens, it can’t always be avoided.

“I can’t promise you it won’t happen again, just like I won’t stop worrying about _you_ either.” He smiles a little and she wants to stop the warmth blossoming in her chest but she doesn’t know how.

She clears her throat, hand moving to rub the back of her neck. She will bite through her tongue before she admits he’s right, “How’s your side, anyways?”

Malcolm shrugs his one shoulder, “Hurts when I move a certain way or breathe…or talk.” She laughs a little and decides to pick up her mug again…though now she wishes it didn’t have so much sugar in it, “But it’s healing just fine.”

Dani smiles a little, glancing at his side that she knows is bandaged up under his dress shirt. At least he didn’t need stiches, a relief she wants to keep to herself opening up in her chest; like a flower that only blooms at night.

He licks his lips, eyes ticking to her mug, “Do you want to go get tea instead?”

“God, yes.” She replies instantly, setting her cup down in the sink to follow him out of the break room.

\--

Later after a debrief in the conference room for the current case they’re on, Dani moves to her desk to grab her jacket to head home for the night. She pauses as something bright, small and orange catches her gaze.

It’s a small, porcelain jack-o-lantern. When she reaches out to pick it up, it’s the size of her palm and the top comes off so she can put a tealight candle inside. What feels like a hand reaches down into her chest and squeezes her ribs together, emotion threatening to overtake her as she runs her thumb over the pumpkin’s jagged black mouth.

She looks up as the conference door closes, Bright leaving and tugging his peacoat over his shoulders. He must feel her gaze because he looks back at her before noticing what’s in her hand—

And gives her a small smile before he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading and if you leave comments / kudos. means a lot!


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